


Meet Me Where Flowers Bloom

by EternalDarkEyes



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Flower Language, Flower meanings, Fluffy?, M/M, MakoHaruAuWeek, long oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 15:20:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4751210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalDarkEyes/pseuds/EternalDarkEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Forget-me-nots hold different special meanings for everyone. For me though, I find they get lost in the fancier, big-blossomed flowers. To appreciate them, I have to make the effort. I have had to learn to be considerate of their existence since they can't demand it like most other flowers. I have to get close and let them tell me their story. And when I do, I can’t help but smile. In their own way, they are being considerate of me too.”</p><p>Haruka watched Makoto intently as he explained the flower. Makoto’s face was gentle. Contemplative. Serene. Almost like he was listening to the flowers respond to his feelings. After another moment or two, Makoto turned to Haruka again. Those green eyes took hold of him, this time almost pleading. “Do you understand?” they asked.</p><p>Haruka didn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meet Me Where Flowers Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> A fanfiction written for MakoHaruAU Week.

To disrespect the water like that… That was it, he was dropping the class.

Haruka wildly flipped through his art portfolio again, plastic page protectors slipping between his fingers in his haste. Page after page revealed stunning oceanic landscapes. Each picture had required hours of concentration and years of practice. Each had earned a special place in Haruka’s heart.

He paused to study a photo of a piece he has turned in as a final project for the previous term. He had been inspired by a trip he and his friends had gone on during their spring break. They had camped at a local beach, and the early morning view of a misty spring morning blurred the usually bright blue sea into a serene gray navy. The sight entered Haruka’s every pore and slowly coaxed him into an intimate early morning swim. It was an indulging experience that eventually led him to spending the rest of the week in a pile of used tissues and stomach-turning wet coughs. Still, he would risk getting sick all over again if he could re-live that moment with the water. The best he could do was try to translate that moment to canvas.

Kimura-sensei had a different opinion however.

“Nanase-san, your work is exquisite,” his professor had stated, as he reviewed Haruka’s portfolio on the second day of class. “But I can’t help but feel that you are limiting yourself. You have an impeccable understanding of water, but—see here for instance! Your understanding of land formations and vegetation are severely lacking in comparison.”

The particular piece he was referring to had a jagged, cliff-like shoreline. The breath-taking white spray of the turbulent ocean made a striking contrast to the admittedly inferior shading of the dark overhanging cliffs. Not to mention the green masses upon the rocks resembled a sludgy swamp rather than the intended mighty forest. Haruka had to admit, it was not his best work. But he was still proud of every single one of those airborne drops he had deliberately painted above the swirling waves.

“By the end of my class, you will have the stepping stones necessary to start really building upon your talents, and you will be on your way to becoming a great, well-balanced artist!” Kimura-sensei admonished Haruka before ushering him along so that he could examine the next student’s work.

Haruka closed his portfolio with a sigh, glancing upward to mindlessly examine the tree he had chosen to sit under during the hour break between college classes. The small community college he attended did not even offer a pool to escape his problems in. He could only sit listlessly as he waited for his next class.

The course was required for his bachelors of arts degree. The rational side of his mind weighed heavily upon him as it supplied this unfortunate truth. If he postponed taking the course, he would have to spend another term on this stifling campus. Not to mention the additional sum of tuition and housing costs that would come with it.

Resigned, Haruka concluded he would have stay in the class. He would have to somehow meet Kimura-sensei’s standards. He would have to endure the horrible disrespect of his beloved water.

Stuffing his portfolio into his art bag, Haruka hurriedly stood up and began making his way to his next class in a brisk walk. He could not stand another moment alone with these torturous thoughts revolving around his reluctantly decided fate.

 

* * *

 

After coming to a conclusion the previous Wednesday, Haruka was forced to meet Friday and its three hour class of Kimura-sensei gushing about his background in botany and how that inspired him to become an artist. Personally, Haruka had stopped listening once Kimura-sensei began to draw diagrams of how plants reproduced sexually and asexually. It was only when Kimura-sensei mentioned homework that Haruka turned from the floorboard he has been intently studying and returned his attention to the front.

“For class on Monday, I want seven sketches of seven different flowering plants. Three in ink and four in pencil. I will end class here, so please use this extra time to start on your assignments,” Kimura-sensei said before promptly gathering his lecturing book and supplies and marching out of the door.

The classroom quickly emptied, Haruka blending into the crowd as they all habitually packed their things and exited.

It was only once he was halfway home did he realize that he probably should start on his assignment rather than just collapse at home. Haruka knew that once he unlocked the door to his small apartment, slipped off his shoes and made his way to draw a bath, that the probability of him starting any homework today would be slim to none. Not to mention his roommate, Nagisa, probably had some list of plans he would force on Haruka if he left too much time open for the taking.

So instead, Haruka took a last minute turn and made his way to a small market spot having decided that some lunch was in order.

Settling into a seat outside of a local café he had chosen at random, Haruka let his mind wonder as he waited for his food to arrive. The train of his small, inconsequential thoughts led him back to the unfortunate reality that he was stuck in a class taught by a plant freak. Though admittedly, he had been called a water freak by peers back in his primary and secondary education. Still, at least he did not force his love of water on other people to torture them. Or at least, not to his recent recollection had he.

The sharp crash of broken pottery and the following exclaimed apology cut Haruka’s internal debate short as his attention was instantly drawn to the shop next to the café.

It was a worn looking flower shop almost bursting with plant life. Having no real walls or windows at its storefront, Haruka could easily peer inside to see a tall employee quickly gush apologies to a costumer as he bent down to clean the remnants of what must have been a hanging plant of some sort.

“To have such a clumsy employee must be hard on the manager” is all Haruka half thought before his dying interest was seized by the waiter who appeared at his side. The server offered him his order with a trained smile. The sight of the freshly grilled mackerel was all it took for Haruka to completely forget his meandering thoughts and to instead invest some of his attention to his empty stomach.

Not until after the last grain of rice was eaten and nothing but mindless thumbing through his phone left to distract him did Haruka belatedly realize the extra time his sensei had given the class had already passed. A tap on his texting app also revealed eight messages from Nagisa and what undoubtedly were the plans for the evening. A quick skim through the messages, and Haruka realized that he probably only had two hours left until he had to be home.

Another crash, this time sounding like ripping cardboard, stole Haruka’s attention from his phone to look once again at the flower shop next door. The employee from earlier was incorrectly collapsing boxes in the front of the store. As the employee continued to struggle with the boxes, Haruka noticed several little baskets surrounding the employee, all having been freshly unpacked. Each basket held plants with large leafy stalks tipped with heavy, bulbous flowers. With a little more inspection, Haruka realized the stalks did not end with one flower, but many little flowers that clustered to form a large blue ball of petals and stems.

Haruka wondered what the petals must feel like. They looked smooth enough, each only about the size of his thumb nail. Without even really considering his actions, he pulled his sketch book from his backpack and slipped the pencil from the book’s spiral binding. Flipping to a clean page, Haruka made quick lines to try to capture the flowers’ bulbous shape. He then quickly filled in the shape with the small petals, occasionally pausing to look up again to check his accuracy. After adding a couple more flower clusters and some fanning leaves, Haruka set his pencil down to scrutinize his work.

It looked like a flower. Not the typical kind they had been taught to draw in grade school, but fuller and more unified. Satisfied with his attempt, Haruka decided he best knock out the six additional flowers required for the assignment while he had the attention and the resources. Then he could go home and maybe sneak a bath before Nagisa could drag him off on some poorly planned adventure.

 

* * *

  

_“Very nice use of value variation. Next time, push for more challenging subjects. Nanase-san, more than half of these are just different types of daisies!”_

Haruka stuffed the grading slip with its disapproving message back into his backpack before kicking the bundle under the café table he had chosen. Agitated, he slumped back into the accompanying metal café chair with an exasperated sigh. A week had passed since he had last visited the little café. It had been a tiring week as teachers, thoroughly finished with formalities and introductions, fully delve straight into the course material. And with that came copious amounts of studying and homework. Already, Haruka had three major essays due next week. And on Monday, he was to turn in four colored samples out of the original seven flowers he had drawn the previous week.

He probably would only be able to get away with one daisy this time around.

Haruka found himself trapped this warm Friday afternoon in front of his now preferred café next to the overgrown flower shop. His stomach pathetically whined over how long his mackerel order was taking, and the bumbling flower shop employee from before had already broken two vases. Now he seemed to be insistently apologizing to anything that would listen to him. As far as Haruka could see, today’s homework session was setting up to be exceptionally grueling.

Once his mackerel order came, Haruka gratefully accepted the meal. He took leisurely bites to truly savor the seared flakey texture and taste. Disappointment only came as he took his last bite, and begrudgingly had to face the reality the empty plate before him held. He could not procrastinate his flower assignment anymore.                                         

After pushing the plate and eating utensils aside, Haruka bent down to pull out his sketchbook and previous graded assignment. Forced to choose the three flowers that were not daisies and then one that was, Haruka looked up to try to locate them among the many plants displayed at the flower shop’s storefront. Instantly, he recognized the heavy bulbous flowers he first drew previously. The flower shop worker was setting out a small cluster of them just at the edge of the bushy storefront display closest to where Haruka sat.

Haruka tried to calm his impatience as the flower shop worker nudged the baskets around until they formed a satisfactory mass of blossoms. Once that wide backside was out of the way, Haruka could finally lean in and really study the flowers again. This time, as he watched the little blossoms teeter with the wind, he aimed to focus on their color rather than just their form.

He almost felt a smile tug at the corner of this lips. The flowers were a beautiful blue.

Momentarily closing his eyes, Haruka maintained a mental image of that blue. However, the blue took form as the sparkling expanse of deep ocean water spreading to the bow of a boat he had ridden once as a child. They had moved so quickly over the water, that instead of focusing on the waves, all Haruka’s eyes could appreciate was just how brilliantly blue the water was. It was surprisingly bright and warm considering its depth. For an instant he could feel the wind rushing through his hair. Taste the salty spray on his lips. Hear the lap of the water as the boat carved its way through it. If he reached far enough, he could capture some of that blue for himself.

Another unfortunate clatter brought Haruka out of his daydream. His eyes shot open to the dull reality of the market corner. He found that at some point during his daydreaming, he had lifted an arm to reach the elusive water. His fingertips now perfectly lined up with the distant blue flowers. The waitress at his side made another clattering noise as she quickly gathered the used dishes from the table. Her careful blank expression did little to hide how obviously uneasy he had made her. Haruka slowly lowered his arm, and made vigilant efforts to avoid any eye contact as the waitress withdrew from the table with a nod.

Quickly pushing that embarrassing slip aside, Haruka grasped quickly at the receding memory. Digging out his pastels from his backpack, he scanned the color options for a candidate who could possibly capture that precious memory. A small nub of cobalt blue caught his eye. Opening his sketchbook to a fresh page, Haruka began to lay down the mid tone in the rough form of his flower. He worked carefully as he tried to recreate that beautiful ocean in the form of the inconsequential plant.

Half an hour later, Haruka had the rough renderings of four bulbous flower clusters. After adding a few strong highlights of white, he let himself relax into the back of his chair to contemplate his technique. His shoulders complained after being tense for so long, and his fingers felt tight from all the pastel residue. But the calming effect that the water-inspired blue flower had on his heart assured him that it was worth it.

And now he would recreate the experience with three other types of flowers.

 

* * *

 

_“The brilliant color used matches the skill of your portfolio pieces. Incredible detail. However Nanase-san, every flower you chose was blue. Next time, consider experimenting with reds, oranges, or yellows.”_

Haruka just could not seem to please Kimura-sensei no matter what he did. No more daisies, and now no more blue. Haruka might as well change his major to math. Kimura-sensei was taking all the enjoyment out of art. At least he could solve math problems in blue.

This weekend’s assignment was a study of just one single flower. They were to pick a flower and capture its essence in five different ways. Kimura-sensei had left the assignment vague on purpose, saying he wanted the class to get creative. Haruka felt he was at an unfair disadvantage since Kimura-sensei had restricted him in his color pallet and plant subject.

Having already finished his now routine order of mackerel from the café, Haruka reluctantly drew out his sketchbook and art supplies. Looking up, he realized that the placement of his café table was much too far from his possible flower subjects. With a quick check around to make sure no one was really paying him any close attention, he skid his table closer to the edge of the café and into a more optimal view of the flowers. Haruka dutifully ignored any screeching noises the table made, and quickly turned to snatch the chair so he could minimize any attention the maneuver may have caught. He sat frozen in his seat, waiting for any café personnel to call him out on his actions. When none came, he finally relaxed in his new spot.

The new position placed him more directly under the afternoon sun. Thankfully, the multi-storied buildings across the street protected him from the harshest rays. The warmth was pleasant, and his eyelids felt heavy. For a moment Haruka felt himself doze.

The feeling of a drop of liquid escaping his mouth and running down his chin woke Haruka up like a fire alarm. Jerking out of his rather uncomfortable sleeping position with a loud grunt, he quickly wiped the unfortunate drool streak with the back of his hand. Cheeks heating with how unguarded he had let himself be, he stretched his stiff limbs in an attempt to dismiss any residual sleepiness.

“Ah, good morning!”

Haruka’s head shot up, vision momentarily blurred as he tried to identify the voice.

On the other side of the café table stood the flower shop employee. The one who had a habit of breaking things, Haruka’s mind half supplied as the rest of him was tense with alarm and embarrassment. The more pressing matter that rang through his mind being whether or not the worker had seen him looking like a drooling idiot.

The guy was tall, Haruka had to crane his head back a bit in his sitting position to peer up at the person before him. Though a green visor shadowed most of his face, Haruka recognized the worker was smiling at him.

“Oh, I’m sorry! Did I surprise you?” the worker exclaimed. “I noticed you were sleeping, and thought maybe you might not have meant to. And I wondered if I should wake you. And then you woke up before I could decide, and I’m sorry for disturbing you. Ye-yeah, I am sorry. Wait, are you an artist?”

The worker spoke so quickly, Haruka’s mind was whirling. He did not really catch what the guy was talking about, and honestly did not really even care. The worker had seen him drooling. His body was screaming for him to give up on the assignment, pack up, and get out before the guy could ask anything else.

Just then an unexpectedly strong gust of wind rushed through the market, sending the pages of Haruka’s sketchbook flying in its binding. With a gasp, Haruka threw his arms out to try to still the pages. The worker jumped forward to chase some of the pencils that had rolled off the table and determinedly were making their way to the wet gutter.

Coming back to the table with the pencils, the worker was somehow still smiling like all this commotion was normal and part of his typical pleasant afternoon. Haruka was thoroughly ruffled and could not even offer a thank you as the worker gingerly placed the pencils on the table.

The silence lasted long enough for Haruka to silently wonder what he could possibly do next to disappear from the situation entirely. Before he could decide, an inhale above him signaled that the flower shop guy was going to say something. Haruka dared a stiff glance up.

“Eh… I—,” the flower shop employee mumbled, taking his visor off to nervously run a hand through his hair.

“Mako-chan! Could you come help me with the register please?” a mature female voice called from inside the shop, startling the two men.

“Ah, yes! Coming!”

Whatever the flower shop guy—Mako-san—had planned on saying was immediately abandoned as he offered Haruka a quick, apologetic bow and then a wave before he turned and ran back into the overgrown flower shop.

Heart beating loudly in his chest, Haruka sat stunned. For a moment he tried to process just what exactly had just occurred.

He fell asleep in public. Probably with his mouth gaping like a fish.

He had woken up to the flower shop guy talking to him about who knows what.

And then the wind happened.

His pencils were saved…

And… Mako-san… had unusually striking green eyes.

Haruka’s fingers suddenly itched. Before he could further process where his thoughts where going, his hands were already in his backpack, this time searching for his colored pencils. The color of Mako-san’s eyes…. He wanted to capture it.

Picking a small pallet of possible colors to use, Haruka flipped to a clean page of his sketchbook. Trying not to let the details of the worker’s face deter him, he began trying to translate the picture in his mind to the paper. Had the eyes been warm or cold? A dark green or a light green? Blue undertones or yellow? His eyes seemed to have glowed despite the majority of lighting coming from behind.

After several attempts, Haruka drew back to study his progress.

He was met with only disappointment. None of his attempts seemed to be right. They just were not… alive enough. The realization of his failure made his stomach twist unpleasantly. Discouraged, Haruka packed his things. Settling his backpack on his shoulders and the strap of his art bag across his torso, he began the walk home. Mind buzzing noisily with all the experiences he had procured, he still could not quite swallow his failure. Never before had he not been able to understand colors after they had called for him so firmly. Yes, usually the blues of water were what made his fingers ache and mind rush.

But now his mind could not forget that significant green.

 

* * *

 

Even after two extended bath sessions and a trip to the community pool courtesy of Nagisa, Haruka still could not settle the disturbance in his body after letting that green slip from his grasp. The failure leadened his hands so he could not will them to draw. His mind was restless, unable to settle enough for him to make any head way in his other class assignments.

It was Sunday, and nothing had been able to lift his mood. Surrounded my homework and textbooks that he could not possibly attempt to understand right now, Haruka toyed with the idea of disappearing in another bath. Across from him on the couch in the living room, Nagisa finally shot up.

“Haru-chan! If you sigh one more time, I am going to lose it!” Nagisa whined. “Ever since Friday, you have been so down. I am worried. Not even Water-chan seems to help!”

Nagisa stood up and made his way to the kitchen table to sit next to Haruka. Resting his head on his folded arms, Nagisa looked up at Haru with big magenta eyes.

Haruka met those eyes hesitantly. Nagisa was a relatively new close friend. Somehow the little guy was able to worm his way through Haruka’s peculiarities enough to earn a place in his world. Though they had many different views and opinions, in the end Haruka was still grateful that they were able to be roommates.

“I couldn’t capture a color. It escaped me,” Haruka quietly admitted, eyes downcast.

“Capture? Like you couldn’t draw it?” Nagisa questioned. Haruka shrugged his response, now looking purposely anywhere but at his friend.

“Aw, Haru-chan… Is this new? Has this not happened before?” Nagisa paused, lifting his head to exam his now outstretched hands. When he was met with silence, he continued, “I don’t think this is a failure, Haru-chan. I think this color must be very special for you to be so struck by it.”

The corners of Haruka’s mouth tightened. The color should not be special. Green was not a new color to him. Then why had it asked so much of him?

“Haru-chan. You should try again. I don’t think the color meant to hurt you. Try again, and see if you can meet it this time.”

Haruka looked up then, feeling suddenly less heavy. Nagisa met his eyes, a hopeful smile brightening his already light features.

A growl interrupted the silence. Nagisa blushed pink under his blond bangs.

“I think my stomach wants me to capture some food. Lets go to lunch! Take me to that café you have been going to!”

Haruka slowly nodded, very aware that he would have to face the flower shop if they went. But the idea of the café’s mackerel and knowing Nagisa would be there made the meeting less intimidating.

Nagisa ran to his room to change into some street clothes, and Haruka decidedly gathered up his art supplies in his art bag. If he was going to face the flower shop, he might as well get his flower study done too.

When the two boys made it to the café, Haruka was surprised by his disappointment when he realized the flower shop closed early on Sundays. They both placed their orders in the cafe, and stepped outside to take a seat at Haruka’s preferred table. It was surprisingly still where he had left it on Friday.

Nagisa prattled on about the psychology class required of him in his child development major. Haruka wondered if the class had influenced Nagisa’s abilities to convince people into doing things that they earlier had no intention of doing. As Nagisa complained about the amount of neurobiology he would have to learn, Haruka decided maybe Nagisa just naturally was able to convince people to do things. He ended the train of thought with him being grateful that Nagisa was not interested in going into advertising.

Their order arrived shortly thereafter. Haruka enjoyed the small comfort his mackerel gave him while Nagisa ate three slices of his loaded pizza at once. Finishing his mackerel before Nagisa, Haruka set aside his dishes and pulled out his sketchbook and colored pencils.

Nagisa paused in his gorging and watched as Haruka turned to study the plants still visible through the side windows of the closed shop.

The large blossom of a red flower caught Haruka’s eye. It was similar to a daisy in its petal shape and arrangement, though this flower had many many layers of the thin petals fanning from the center while the daisy only had one or two. Deciding it was good enough, Haruka grabbed a cherry red pencil and began drafting the shape of the blossom.

Pleased, Nagisa went back to his eating. He still had half a medium pizza to enjoy.

By the time he was almost done with the second picture of the red flower, Haruka was already painfully bored. The repetitive rows of thin petals wore at Haruka’s patience, and the red was abrasive to his senses. The first picture was drawn just as he could see it through the window. The second was drawn with consideration of the tint of the window and the shadow of the closed store. He had maybe one other lousy idea to try to capture the flower when a gasp drew him from his frustrated thoughts.

“Awww! Its you!”

Both Nagisa and Haruka turned to face the street behind them. And there, standing next to them clad in actually pleasing causal wear rather than that worn work uniform was the flower shop worker: Mako-san…

Before Haruka could even think of how to react, Nagisa spoke next to him.

“Ivv Fuu?” he voiced around a mouthful of cheese.

“I’m sorry! I guess it would be strange to have someone like me just interrupting. I guess I am thoughtless sometimes. Please excuse my rudeness, I am Tachibana Makoto. I work for my aunt here at this flower shop.”

Haruka chose to focus on the speaker’s mouth as he bowed and introduced himself. Haruka was too alarmingly aware that he could not face the green so unexpectedly. The mouth was a safe place to focus away from those eyes.

Swallowing, Nagisa easily continued the introduction like he had not just finished a slice of pizza in two bites.

“Makoto…? Mako…-chan! I’m Hazuki Nagisa, and this is Haru-chan! You work at the flower shop? Maybe you can help Haru-chan then!”

“Help? I would be happy to help however I am capable,” Tachibana-san said, right hand slowly lifting to shyly scratch his cheek.

Haruka realized then that Tachibana-san was carrying several bags of groceries in each hand.

“I don’t need help,” Haruka stated plainly. Though he knew Tachibana-san must be looking at him now, Haruka still refused to meet his gaze. Haruka knew any further interaction would be troublesome.

“Oh, really? I’m sorry for being so assuming. Umm...” Tachibana-san trailed off, obviously uncomfortable.

“Don’t worry!” Nagisa cut in, “Haru-chan definitely needs your help! He just doesn’t like to trouble people. See, Haru-chan is trying to draw this red flower and it is just not working! The flower is not right! Do you have any suggestions?”

Haruka was shocked. How had Nagisa known that? He had barely even begun to realize it when Tachibana-san had shown up.

Warily, Haruka turned to meet eyes with Nagisa. His friend only smiled wider before winking. Haruka turned his head away sharply, avoiding those knowing eyes.

Tachibana-san set down his groceries gently before bending down to study the page Haruka had been working on.

“Aw, I was right. You are an artist,” Tachibana-san said almost under his breath.

Haruka froze, he should not be able to feel Tachibana-san’s breath on his ear like that. Too close, the guy was way too close.

Tachibana-san studied the picture a moment more before standing up fully, much to Haruka’s relief.

“I think you are drawing a red chrysanthemum, right? It’s definitely a pretty flower, but its not really one of my favorites. Too common at funerals unfortunately.” Tachibana-san took a step back, looking thoughtful.

“So, Mako-chan! Can you help Haru-chan? We would both be very grateful!” Nagisa begged, eyes big and shining.

Haruka flinched as he could all but feel Tachibana-san as bent to pick up the bags he had set down. Stomach turning, Haruka was unsure if he should read the action as a dismissal.

“Let me see what I can find! I have to bring these in, but I will ask my aunt and see what she thinks. Just give me a moment.”

Haruka listened to the crackling of plastic bags as Tachibana-san walked away with his groceries. As soon as he heard a door close, Haruka’s head shot up to glare at Nagisa.

Nagisa predictably defended himself with a sharp smile. “Haru-chan! We both knew you weren’t going anywhere with that picture. And Mako-chan came to us like an angel from heaven. He seems very eager to help.”

Still not satisfied, Haruka only narrowed his eyes more at Nagisa before turning back to his drawing. The unsatisfied feeling briefly returned. No matter how much he did not want to admit it, the flower was just not working for him. And a little part of him was curious to see what the bumbling Tachibana-san could bring that would be helpful at all.

“And Haru-chan,” Nagisa slowly added, “you were right. His eyes really are a captivating color of green.”

Red surged up Haruka’s neck and cheeks like wildfire, overheating his mind and burning any possible response he could have thought to make. Confounded, he could only stare as Nagisa slowly chewed on his last slice of pizza. Haruka wished he knew how to wipe that smug expression off his friend’s face.

Too soon, a door sounded as it opened from the direction of the flower shop. Haruka stubbornly stared down at his drawing as he listened to Tachibana-san’s footsteps draw near.

“My aunt was kinda busy, but she suggested this.”

Tachibana-san must have presented something because Nagisa gasped after the sound of something shifting.

“Mako-chan… Its beautiful,” Nagisa sighed. Haruka, though he did not move, could feel his curiosity building.

“Yeah. I think so too,” Tachibana-san replied brightly, “It’s a peony. We have buckets full thanks to a recent order we made for an upcoming wedding. This one is in full bloom right now, so it probably would be wilted by the time of the wedding. My aunt said it would be okay for me to give it to you just this once.”

Knowing that was a cue for him to speak, Haruka released his bottom lip after unknowingly worrying at it. Taking a deep breath, he hesitantly looked up.

The blossom filled his vision. It was an incredible, velvety dark red. The petals were large and concave. Though the outer petals spread wide, the inner petals wound around themselves to form beautiful high contrasts between light and dark red. The complexity of the petals reminded Haruka of gathered, shimmering silk. The peony was perfect.

Fingers already eager to find the right combinations of colors, Haruka could not trust himself to express in words the feelings the flower gave him. So he did the next best thing. He looked up to try and convey his feelings through his eyes.

When their eyes met, Haruka instantly felt regret as the green stunned him again. But the feeling was gone just as quickly, and Haruka was filled with warmth as those eyes looked into him and seemed to understand. He did not know how long he was caught in that gaze, how long he went without breath, how completely he let that green flood his senses. 

When Tachibana-san blinked and then looked away, Haruka took a deep breath and also blinked, feeling as if a spell had just been lifted. Feeling shaky now, Haruka spared a glance towards Nagisa in hopes of catching his eye.

Nagisa smiled, genuinely pleased.

“I hope it will work for you, H-… Haru-san,” Tachibana-san said quietly, Haruka choosing again only to focus on the small smile that played at the corners of Tachibana’s lips.

“Haru. Just Haru,” Haruka corrected without a second thought. Surprised with himself, he looked up for Tachibana’s reaction.

His smile was blinding. It spread wide across his face, causing his eyes to crinkle. The straight edges of his teeth peaked through slightly parted lips, and his eyes glistened molten green.

“Then please, call me Makoto.”

 

* * *

 

He had only been able to restrain himself a day before somehow finding himself at the flower shop again. Tuesday afternoons were typically quieter for Haruka. The weekend’s homework is turned in on Mondays and the next wave of due dates do not usually hit until Thursdays or Fridays. On Tuesdays, he typically swam at the community pool. The habitual swim usually energized him to make it through the rest of the week. Today however, something else took precedence.

And he was making his way up the sidewalk to greet Haruka right now.

Haruka frantically flipped the pages of his sketchbook to a clean page. He was working in pastels again today, so his hasty fingers dirtied the otherwise pristine sheet of paper. Nervously he looked up as he heard the footsteps draw closer.

“Good afternoon, Haru!” Makoto greeted him with an open smile, stopping on the other side of the café table like he had that previous Sunday.

Haruka could only meet Makoto’s shimmering eyes with a brief glance and a slight nod before turning back to his embarrassingly blank page.

“I’m surprised to see you today. I thought you would be busy during the week with classes and stuff. That’s why you visit only on the weekends.” Makoto paused a moment, face reddening. “N-Not that I keep track or anything! Just sometimes business gets slow, and I people-watch. I probably do that more than I should anyway…”

Haruka felt warm as he watched Makoto fumble over his words. The way Makoto stared off to the side and his eyebrows tilted upward while his cheeks darkened in color almost made Haruka break his pastel with his tightened grip. Makoto was such an interesting combination of colors.

“Is that why you break so many things?” Haruka asked, feeling suddenly pressured to fill Makoto’s embarrassed silence.

Makoto’s reaction was instant. His already flustered cheeks suddenly burned with the intensity of his embarrassment. His shoulders drew up and his mouth gaped. Haruka almost smiled.

“You—you noticed that?!” Makoto finally wheezed behind a dirt-covered hand now shielding his expression.

“Just once or twice.” Haruka supplied, now feeling conflicted between wanting to see more of Makoto’s colorful expressions and actually feeling bad for upsetting him.

Taking a deep breath, Makoto lowered his hand from his face to instead play with the edge of his stained apron. His cheeks still were a burning red, but his eyes glowed fondly.

“It might be. I actually began working here only a couple months ago. My aunt has had to take things easy due to some health issues. So my parents sent me here to help her. She is very patient with me. I have never been very good with my hands, and sometimes things just slip. But she is very encouraging. Right now, she is teaching me how to make corsages. I can pick out the flower combinations pretty well, but I struggle with the wire and floral tape.”

For a moment, Makoto’s smile was subdued. Something flickering across his eyes that Haruka could not recognize. Regret weighed heavily in Haruka’s stomach. He should not have been so casual.

Then almost like a light switch, Makoto’s bright smile was back.

“I actually should be practicing those right now while we have no costumers. That or my packaging. I can’t seem to tie the bows right.” Makoto met Haruka’s eyes easily, the shadow from before gone. “Will you be here long? Maybe I can stop by again. See how your picture is coming along. What are drawing this time?”

Having completely forgotten that he was supposed to be looking like he was here to draw flowers, Haruka drew a blank on how to respond. Excuses tumbling around in his head, he let out the first thing that resembled a sentence.

“I draw free.”

“You don’t charge commissions?” Makoto asked immediately, a little bewildered by the answer.

Haruka let his silence prompt Makoto forward. He could not trust his words right now. After a moment, Makoto tried again.

“Oh, like freely? Mmm… Maybe you draw from your heart?”

Haruka, feeling like that may be a suitable explanation, offered a small smile.

“Aw, I see. My aunt speaks similarly about tending the flowers. That it must be from the heart. I am not entirely sure what that means, but, if you will let me, I would like to see it maybe.”

A call from the shop cut Haruka off before he could answer. Makoto looked back and acknowledged who Haruka assumed was Makoto’s aunt.

“Well, I guess I’ve been caught slacking. See ya maybe later?” Makoto asked, already hurriedly turning around to make his way back to work.

Watching Makoto turn into the entrance of the flower shop, Haruka did not answer Makoto’s fleeting question. Instead, he slowly turned the pages of his sketchbook back to the page he had been working on before. Careful now of his dusty fingers, Haruka studied his work with new eyes.

The page was filled with glimpses of Makoto. Attempt after attempt at capturing those incredible green eyes and gentle smile nearly overlapping in Haruka’s vigorous drawing. Haruka was getting closer. He could see it in the way he had tilted the eyes downward at the sides. Or how he had added light freckles across tanned cheeks. And now Makoto had just given him so much more to work with. The new expressions flowing through his memory were challenging him to translate them to paper.

Thinking of Makoto’s intense blush, Haruka picked his colors and began to draw. Somewhere in his mind, he absently wondered if he was becoming obsessed with this flower shop worker.

 

* * *

 

Fortunately, this week’s assignment for Kimura-sensei’s class only required Haruka to write up formatted critiques for two of his classmates as well as having his own flower study critiqued twice. Haruka had quickly whipped those out after class on Wednesday. This left his Friday flower drawing time open to spend however he pleased. Haruka had every intention of spending that time trying to finally commit those green eyes to parchment. However, it seemed Makoto had other plans.

“Haru, am I distracting you?” Makoto asked during his second visit that afternoon.

Haruka looked up from the dismal daisies he had half-heartedly been sketching. Yes, Makoto has been distracting him. But not from any assignments or anything of academic importance. No, Makoto was disrupting Haruka’s secret fascination and study of Makoto himself. If Makoto kept snooping looks at his sketchbook, it would only be time until Haruka would mess up and Makoto would discover Haruka’s strange obsession with green eyes. And with Haruka’s skill improving, Makoto would definitely recognize those eyes as his own.

Knowing Makoto was expecting an answer, Haruka quietly lied. “No. Just an artblock.”

“Oh. Yeah, you seem to be focusing a lot on daisies lately. Its just that… I thought you were trying for more complex flowers. N-nothing against daisies or anything! Just, they don’t seem to capture you like I have seen other flowers do.”

‘I want to capture you,’ Haruka thought bitterly before a simmering burn filled his cheeks. He tried futilely to disregard what that thought could have implied.

His silence and disgruntled expression must have led Makoto to different answers because he quickly ran back to the flower shop saying he would be right back.

The daisies he had been drawing seemed to wilt before his eyes. They really were pathetic. No wonder Makoto was worried. But they were his go-to doodle when Makoto would show up while he was trying to draw incognito.

Makoto’s heavy footsteps brought Haruka back from his internal struggle.

“Haru! I have to stay in the shop while my aunt rests, but I was able to catch her before she headed upstairs. She said you could join me in the shop!” Makoto exclaimed, eyes shining eagerly.

Confused, Haruka looked from Makoto to the flower shop entrance and then back to Makoto. To be honest, Haruka kind of felt like the flower shop looked a little uninviting with its big masses of plants everywhere. He imagined if he went in, coming out he would look like he had tumbled down a forested slope.

But with the way Makoto was smiling at him, Haruka knew he could not say no. Besides, Makoto still had not told him what going inside had to do with anything anyway.

Biting back a sigh, Haruka bent down to gather his bag so he could pack up his supplies. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Makoto nervously toeing at the ground.

“Heh! I am kinda anxious and excited! I’ve wanted to show you the shop for a while,” Makoto rambled as Haruka packed. “I know you will find some sort of inspiration there.”

Standing up with his bags, Haruka attempted to make eye contact to express some sort of gratitude and understanding. He was mildly disappointed to find that those green eyes would not meet his. Makoto was very jittery. What was so special about the flower shop?

Haruka followed Makoto the couple yards to the shop entrance. The storefront consisted of a wide counter that overflowed with plants arranged in their plastic containers. Hanging plants covered what Haruka could identify as the metal retractable cover used when the shop closed. Below the counter, larger plants were grouped together to form a waist-high forest of leaves, branches, and flowers.

Once inside, Haruka had to let his eyes adjust to the shadowed interior. Eventually, he was able to make out several shelving units customized to display the plants. The way they were lined up, with the windows behind letting in the majority of the store’s light, gave the appearance that the walls were made of flowers. The open space of the store was filled with several tiered tables. Some were dedicated to bouquets and others with more potted plants. The back wall was lined with several glass-door refrigerators. Their interiors were filled with elaborate arrangements of more exotic flowers.

Turning to find Makoto, Haruka saw him already behind the check-out counter helping a customer.

“Thank you for your business, ma’am! You made a great choice with the lily of the valley,” Makoto said sweetly, smile kind and bow deep.

Finally catching his eye, Haruka made his way to the counter as the customer made her way out.

“Sorry about that, but I couldn’t keep that woman waiting long,” Makoto needlessly excused himself before pausing, green eyes studying Haruka’s face. Smiling warmly, Makoto continued, “I’m really glad you like it here.”

Haruka averted his gaze, feeling unexpectedly exposed. Makoto was getting really good at reading his expressions.

It almost shocked Haruka how much he liked the flower shop. It actually was surprisingly clean though it still maintained an earthy, organic feel. The air was cooler inside and filled him with new sweet fragrances with every inhale. The colors of the flowers had been artistically arranged so that the changes in hue were gradual and attractive. Feeling overwhelmed by the living colors, Haruka let his eyes close for a moment. Without his sight, the flowers’ perfume seemed to combine together, leaving Haruka feeling suddenly lightheaded. A large hand on his shoulder brought Haruka back before he could lose himself and fall.

“It can be a lot to take in,” Makoto quietly said from behind him. “When I was little, I used to hide behind the larger bushes and pretend I was lost in a jungle. It wasn’t very hard, everything considered. Now though, it feels like a garden. It makes me feel really peaceful.

Haruka hummed his response, finally understanding why Makoto had been so excited to share this place with him. Turning around, Haruka faced Makoto with shining eyes.

“Thank you. This helped,” was all Haruka could say, hoping the following silence could fill in the rest. Makoto smiled, somehow understanding.

For a moment, Makoto then disappeared into the backroom of the flower shop. He appeared again holding a worn wooden stool, and set it near the window behind the checkout counter. Makoto gestured for Haruka to take a seat, of which Haruka gratefully did.

“Well, I better get back to work,” Makoto sighed, hand fumbling as he attempted to grab a broomstick leaning on the wall. “Um, make yourself comfortable. Let me know if you need anything.”

Haruka nodded silently, keeping his eyes trained on Makoto as he began maneuvering around the tables sweeping up stray dirt and fallen petals. No wonder the guy kept breaking things. He was giant compared to these little plant set ups.

Pulling out his notebook and drawing his knees up as a makeshift ledge, Haruka tentatively began sketching out a figure. It was dangerous to be indulging himself so close to Makoto, but after having his senses so thoroughly filled, Haruka had to express his feelings somehow.

It was pleasant being in the shop with Makoto. After finishing sweeping, Makoto filled a large watering can in the back and began watering some of the potted plants. The muscles of his arm flexed with the weight of the can, but he easily kept the water stream steady and well-aimed. Haruka appreciated the scene with swift pencil movements.

When a customer came in, Makoto greeted him with a bow. Makoto was very well-mannered as he assisted the gentlemen in finding a suitable flower arrangement. He seemed to be fairly knowledgeable about the different plants and what would be suitable for the customer’s needs. Eventually, the two decided on a small bouquet of purple flowers.

“Anemone are an excellent choice to celebrate a new baby,” was all Haruka could hear before he realized the two were making their way to the register. Hoping Makoto was distracted with the customer, he quickly flipped the pages of his sketchbook to an old drawing of the ocean. Trying to look like he was concentrating on his art, Haruka traced some dark lines of one of the swirling waves as Makoto stepped behind the counter and stood next to him. Shoulders drawn and eyes pointedly staring at one spot of the old picture, Haruka knew he looked anything but natural.

Makoto rang the price for the flowers and accepted the man’s credit card. As soon as the man stepped outside, Makoto was just short of pouncing on Haruka.

“Haru! That is amazing! You drew that just while I was sweeping? That’s so amazing! You are amazing!” Makoto gushed, face close up to study the picture and much too close to Haruka’s face.

Haruka placed the sketch on the counter in front of him in hopes that Makoto’s big self would follow it. To his relief, the shift did return some of his personal space as Makoto followed the picture in a trance.

“The ocean. Haru you drew the ocean,” Makoto said dreamily. Haruka could only shrug his shoulders, honestly not understanding what Makoto meant. Yeah, it was the ocean…?

Finally catching himself, Makoto straightened. Embarrassment colored his cheeks, but his eyes still glowed excitedly. “I’m… I’m just really impressed by your skill, Haru. I don’t visit the ocean often, but even I can tell you got it perfectly. Its breathtaking…”

“Its important to me,” was all Haruka could say to explain himself. In the back of his mind, he wondered what would happen if Makoto actually saw one of his good ocean scenes rather than this old doodle.

“I can see that,” Makoto responded, eyes now studying Haruka rather than his picture.

Not liking the pointed attention, Haruka quickly changed the subject. “You know a lot about flowers...”

“Oh? You were listening to that?” Makoto asked, shying away to now lean against the counter. “My aunt has taught me a lot through the years. I am nowhere near being a professional like her, but I know a lot of their names and some of their meanings. And when I see people, sometimes I can just feel what they are looking for. Aw, but maybe that is just me being strange.”

“I don’t think so,” Haruka countered simply.

Somehow, without his permission, Makoto found his eyes. Whatever Makoto saw as Haruka was again held captive by those eyes must have satisfied him. Straightening from his leaned position, Makoto broke the connection as he turned to walk to the far side of the shop room. He returned with a small green plant.

Just as Makoto was about to place the plant on the counter, it slipped from his fingers to fall a couple inches and then land with a dull clack.

“Aw sorry, my hands are always dirty so my grip isn’t great.” Makoto excused himself, nervously wiping his palms on his apron.

Haruka dismissed the apology easily, choosing instead to lean in and study the little plant. It had taken the fall well, only a little dust of soil beneath showed evidence that it had even happened. The pot was a decorative white pail. Long thin leaves sprouted out of the dark soil forming a small bush. Sprinkled across in clusters were curious tiny blue flowers.

“They are forget-me-nots,” Makoto stated before cautiously extending a finger to brush a cluster. “They remind me of you.”

Stunned, Haruka looked up from the plant to study Makoto’s expression, hoping to get a better understanding of what he could had meant. Was Makoto trying to flirt with him or something? If so, you would think he would pick a more impressive plant. Also, why would Makoto be flirting with him?!

The expression Makoto held was gentle and unassuming. Instead of watching for a reaction from Haruka, Makoto simply continued to appreciate the plant, fingers lightly running over tiny blossoms.

“I don’t understand. Have we met before?” Haruka asked, unable to make any sense out of the message Makoto offered him, and honestly beginning to feel uneasy.

Finally, Makoto rested his hand on the counter and lifted his gaze to meet Haruka’s. “I guess I said something strange again,” he sighed after a small chuckle. “No, I don’t think we have. What I mean is, if you were a flower, I think you would be a forget-me-not.”

“Because I’m small?”

“No, not really.”

“Because I get forgotten a lot?”

“No, and I hope that isn’t true.”

“Because its blue, and my eyes are blue and I like wearing blue?”

“No, though that’s an interesting thought.”

Frustrated, Haruka looked down at the flowers. He poked a cluster, and watched as they swayed.

“Forget-me-nots hold different special meanings for everyone. For me though, I find they get lost in the fancier, big-blossomed flowers. To appreciate them, I have to make the effort. I have had to learn to be considerate of their existence since they can't demand it like most other flowers. I have to get close and let them tell me their story. And when I do, I can’t help but smile. In their own way, they are being considerate of me too.”

Haruka watched Makoto intently as he explained the flower. Makoto’s face was gentle. Contemplative. Serene. Almost like he was listening to the flowers respond to his feelings. After another moment or two, Makoto turned to Haruka again. Those green eyes took hold of him, this time almost pleading. “Do you understand?” they asked.

Haruka didn’t.

Makoto had just offered something special of himself and Haruka didn’t understand. He had failed those green eyes again. They called for him to capture them. They called for him to understand them. And Haruka had failed to meet them.

And somehow, Makoto was able to understand this. Without pushing for an answer or apologizing, he gathered the white pot to place it back among the other forget-me-nots in the back. He then gathered his watering can again and began to water more plants. Haruka recognized that Makoto was giving him space.

How did Makoto understand Haruka so well? How did those green eyes see through him? How come he could not respond in a way that matched their brilliance?

Haruka could feel his skin prickle in an entirely different way than we he was called to draw. He needed the water to understand the storm inside him. So Haruka packed his things, and made his way to the door.

“Haru.”

Haruka paused only a pace away from the door.

“If I were a plant, what do you think I would be?” Makoto’s voice was level but somehow Haruka knew his mind wasn’t.

Turning, Haruka noticed a blooming cactus on the storefront counter.

“A cactus,” Haruka said, hoping Makoto understood he was trying to tease. A quick glance back gave Haruka a glimpse of Makoto’s wobbly smile and watery eyes.

“Ah, of course. See ya later?”

“Yeah.”

 

* * *

 

It is Sunday morning, and Haruka is painting in his room. He had opened his window in hopes that the fresh air would, by some small fraction, invigorate him like the flower shop had. It was nice outside, but Haruka knew the key component of freshness could not be had through open windows.

Since leaving the flower shop on Friday, Haruka had immediately gone home to silence his mind by soaking in the tub. Nagisa walked in after he come home, which was normal considering that Haruka liked to soak while wearing his swimming jammers. What was abnormal was how Nagisa closed the door as quietly as he possibly could after just a moment of shared silence. He has let Haruka have his space since then.

Haruka somehow had been diligent in his homework despite it being the weekend. He even took an online midterm early, passing with acceptable marks. With no art assignments due on Monday besides his critiques, Haruka had time to work on personal projects.

A light breeze caressed his cheek, bringing him out of his mind and back to the present and the piece before him.

He had transferred a sketch to a large pad of watercolor paper. Watercolor was Haruka’s favorite color medium. He hoped it somehow would strengthen him.

Makoto looked back at him. Pencil lines defined his silhouette. Big hands were gentle as they placed Haruka’s first bulbous blue flowers into a neat arrangement. His slightly downcast eyes were determined as he worked. This was the second piece of Makoto that Haruka had painted today. The other lay drying on his bed where Makoto’s smile outshined the peony he was offering. Several other pencil renderings littered his floor, waiting patiently for their turn.

Dipping his brush into a glass of clean water, Haruka began filling in Makoto’s shirt.

 

* * *

 

Not even Haruka’s feelings of failure could keep him from seeing Makoto that following Friday. That and Kimura-sensei had another flower assignment for the class to complete. This time they were instructed to do another five flower study, however each study was supposed to tell a different story about the flower. Haruka may have grown a new appreciation for flowers thanks to Makoto, but in terms of presence in his art, he was starting to feel apathetic. Somehow, he had to stick with it for a couple more weeks.

Makoto made it easier.

Haruka had been afraid that Makoto would act differently after he had been unable to meet his feelings the week prior. But when he stepped through the shop door, Makoto instantly greeted him with a deep bow and then a surprised grin. Haruka easily took his seat on the stool behind the checkout counter, and began unpacking his supplies.

When Makoto’s aunt came in from the back room with a beautiful new floral arrangement, Haruka was instantly nervous. Fortunately, her kind smile calmed his fears instantly, and he was even able to say hello when Makoto introduced him. Her smile was similar to Makoto’s, but her eyes, though kind, did not match Makoto’s intensity.

She said Haruka was welcomed to do his art there as long as he cleaned up after himself and did not distract Makoto too much from the customers. Haruka promised.

That did not stop Makoto, however, from distracting him. The five flower story study thing was time consuming, and Makoto seemed to be especially clumsy today and, Haruka had to later secretly admit, especially adorable.

While Haruka was steadily making his way through his second sketch, Makoto let out a yelp before the sound of shattering pottery briefly filled the little shop. Startled, Haruka looked up to see Makoto lower himself to the ground to begin gathering the plant from the wreckage. Having chosen to wear his visor today, Haruka could not make out Makoto’s expression.

Sliding off of his stool and setting his sketchbook aside, Haruka went to join Makoto on the floor. Silently, Haruka gathered pottery shards while Makoto went to go explain the crash to his aunt. While he was gone, Haruka wondered if Makoto had a pair of gardening gloves. He was pretty sure gloves would help with Makoto’s grip. When Makoto returned, Haruka had decided he would investigate later the possibility of buying some for him.

Haruka’s attention snapped back to the present as small whimpering noises could be heard as Makoto knelt down again to gather pottery pieces in his apron. Pausing in his cleaning, Haruka extended a hand and gently clasped Makoto’s upper right arm. Bending his head, he tried to meet Makoto’s eyes. His other hand gingerly removed the visor. Immediately he was met with big, teary green eyes. Makoto blinked and the tears fell. Haruka watched wordlessly as they slid down reddened cheeks to gather at Makoto’s chin before dropping to join the mess still on the ground. Haruka looked up again, desperate to know what words he could say that would stop this anomaly. A wet sob broke him from his internal struggle.

“I’m sorry, Haru. I just keep breaking things! Every time I do this, it puts a lot of stress on the plant. The little things are just so fragile. Yesterday, I had to finally throw away one that didn’t recover. Haru! I’m a flower murderer. A murderer!!” Makoto broke down into more wet sobbing.

Gathering the rest of the pottery pieces, Haruka deposited it into the trash behind the counter. He then built the courage to go into the back room and ask Tachibana oba-san if Makoto could go on break for a little while. With her approval, Haruka gathered the now hiccupping Makoto. Using the back of his apron, Makoto mopped up his tear-stained face shakily. Haruka extended a hand to help Makoto stand, which was gratefully accepted. Wordlessly, Haruka led them out the shop door and over to the café next door.

Hand in hand, they both waited for their turn to order. Makoto no longer was crying though his shoulders still occasionally shook with residual hiccups. When they finally had the cashier’s attention, Haruka asked for a glass of ice water and then eyed Makoto to make his order.

“The chocolate cupcake please. The one with the candy flower?” Makoto asked between hiccups.

Before Makoto could even think about reaching for his wallet, Haruka paid and accepted their order. Deftly handing Makoto the cupcake and then grabbing the drink, Haruka again took Makoto’s hand and led him to an open booth next to a window. He easily slid into the seat opposite Makoto, finally letting go of Makoto’s hand.

Taking a sip of water, Haruka watched Makoto stare down at his cupcake glumly.

“Makoto… Makoto!”

Slowly, Makoto looked up, red-rimmed eyes hesitant to meet Haruka’s gaze. When they finally did, Haruka continued to speak.

“Any plant. And every plant considers themselves lucky to be handled by you. That includes those that fall, Makoto.” Haruka said, eyes staring steadily into Makoto’s. “Because when you care for them, you love them. And who can ask more in life than to be loved like you love them?”

Haruka’s heart beat loudly in his chest. He was not sure where the courage came from to say those words let alone where the words even came from. But he hoped that Makoto could tell that Haruka meant every single one. He held those green eyes for a moment longer before turning to look out the window. His reflection confirmed his fears. His face was burning with embarrassment, no matter how many sips of water he took, he could not calm it.

Thankfully, he heard the wrapper of the cupcake slowly being pulled off and Makoto moan quietly as he enjoyed his first bite.

“I actually have a weakness for chocolate,” Makoto admitted casually after his second bite. After his third, he offered Haruka the candy flower. Haruka shook his head slowly.

“I don’t really like sweets,” Haruka said, watching now as Makoto thoughtfully chewed the sugary decoration.

Makoto hummed his understanding before going ahead and licking off the frosting.

Haruka might not like sweets, but Makoto being adorable was a whole other story. To fall into despair over flowers, Makoto’s tender heart almost melted Haruka’s. And now he was eating a cupcake of all things with the vigor and relish of a child.

Haruka also could not let himself forget how Makoto’s tear-filled eyes had shined like an expertly-cut emerald, the color and sparkle had left Haruka breathless. Already, he was composing exactly what his next personal painting would portray. But for now, Haruka let himself watch Makoto fondly as he finished his cupcake.

 

* * *

 

The lost time from last Friday and the candid demands of inspiration forced Haruka to spend the entirety of his weekend painting and drawing. He had hoped to drop by a home improvement store before his Monday classes to purchase gardening gloves for Makoto. As much as he treasured watching Makoto’s expressions last Friday, he did not wish for Makoto to relive that guilt with another accident. Unfortunately with all the crammed painting, Haruka had to cut the trip to the store and still scarcely made it to class on time as it was.

That next Friday, Haruka barely had the patience to make it through class and gather his graded assignments before he promptly made his way to the flower shop. The large pair of gardening gloves were crammed into his backpack, having finally been purchased the day before. He made sure to buy the kind with extra strong rubber grips.

As he rounded the corner to the market street, Haruka started to have second thoughts. What if Makoto actually already owned gardening gloves and chose to not wear them? Or perhaps Tachibana oba-san had some sort of rule against them? Would it be strange for Haruka to give Makoto a gift? He had bought him something last week, what if Makoto started to think that Haruka was trying to buy his friendship?

Haruka felt himself slow down to an eventual stop. He could see the flower shop in the distance. He could imagine Makoto inside cleaning or helping a customer. Haruka’s body felt tense. His shoulders drawn up and his neck muscles taut. He felt like he had a weight in his stomach that somehow made it difficult to breathe.

In the distance, Haruka watched Makoto step out of the flower shop. He was waving good-bye to a recent customer. Haruka was sure he was smiling that blinding smile, even if he could not make out the details of his face quite yet.

Haruka took a step forward. And then another.

How could he let himself forget? This was Makoto. Kind, patient, understanding Makoto. Makoto who cried over flowers and sometimes talked too much. Makoto who picked a chocolate cupcake over any other food option. Makoto who always seemed to meet Haruka’s feelings, even if Haruka was still unable to meet Makoto’s. This was his time to try again.

Makoto finally caught sight of Haruka as he approached the shop. He had stopped waving, but his smile was warm and welcoming. Haruka felt his heart calm and a silly smile attempt to tug the corners of his mouth.

“Good morning Haru! Well, I think its still morning. Maybe for another 30 minutes… So yeah, good morning.”

Haruka could not help it. He smiled his greeting, and Makoto returned it with an even more striking one. His green eyes crinkling to the point that Haruka could hardly see them.

Making  their way into the shop, Makoto asked about his week and then continued to fill Haruka in about his own. The feeling inside the flower shop was just as intoxicating as the first time Haruka had entered it. The smell soothed his stomach, and the colors somehow cleared his mind of any remaining worries.

Haruka took his seat up on his stool while Makoto told his aunt that Haruka was here. Returning with a handful of ribbon, Makoto stood on the other side of the checkout counter and laid out a couple curling pieces. Haruka watched for a moment as Makoto started practicing his bows. It was slightly pathetic but mostly amusing to watch Makoto’s big fingers try to work with such little details like ribbon loops and tucks.

“Its supposed to be a pompom bow…” Makoto said, trying to fluff up the loops more. After a couple more tugs, Makoto gave up with a sigh. “It looks more like a mess of ribbons than a pompom.” With one well placed tug, the mass came loose and Makoto went to try again.

Haruka took this as cue for him to start his work too. He moved to open his backpack when he realized that Makoto’s gloves were laying just below the zipper. Glancing up at Makoto, Haruka saw that he was still concentrating on building the layers of his bow. Haruka switched over to his art bag to grab a spare sketchbook he kept there. The backpack he left partially open, ready for him to grab the gloves when he felt the time was appropriate.

“Aw! Haru! You dropped something,” Makoto informed Haruka, finger indicating a piece of paper that had drifted out of the art bag. With a large open art bag on his lap, Haruka was appreciative when Makoto instead joined him behind the counter to pick up the slip of paper.

“It looks like a grading sheet. Wow! Your teacher had some really nice things to say about your art work!” Makoto almost was beaming as he handed Haruka the paper. “Could I look at the assignment this was for?”

“Yeah…” Haruka answered slowly, confused. Kimura-sensei never seemed to have anything nice to say about Haruka’s work before. Handing Makoto his large assignment folder absently, Haruka kept his attentions instead on the note scrawled below the grading rubric.

_“Very interesting flower choice. The stories you depicted were deep and emotional. This truly is a new step for your artwork, Nanase-san. The green has so much life. Next time though, please do not repeat flowers you have previously used.”_

Last weekend had been so full of painting, Haruka could hardly remember what he had ended up finishing for the assignment. But whatever it was, Kimura-sensei liked it. Dismissing the teacher, Haruka tucked the grading slip back into his art bag. He would worry about that later.

“Haru…”

Makoto had been silent for a while, Haruka realized as he turned to look at him. Usually he would embarrassingly be gushing about Haruka’s work. But the expression on his face was contemplative if a bit confused.

“Are these all of me?”

What…

“I had no idea you had been drawing me all this time. I’m… kinda speechless.”

“Do you mind if I show my aunt?”

No. It couldn’t be.

“Give those back.” Haruka ordered. Makoto looked stunned, but obediently slipped the pieces into the folder and handed it back to Haruka.

Snatching them out of Makoto’s grasp, Haruka stuffed them into his art bag with his sketchbook and pencils. Makoto took a step back as Haruka wildly threw on his backpack and grabbed the handles of his art bag.

“I have to go,” Haruka muttered as he sidled his way past Makoto and headed for the door.

“But Haru—”

“I have to go!!”

“I’m sorry! Did I—”

The whirring in Haruka’s ears deafened Makoto’s apology as he stepped out of the shop. He had to get away.

Makoto saw them. Somehow he had turned in his pictures of Makoto rather than his flower study. And Makoto had seen them! Makoto knew now. He knew about Haruka’s obsession with his eyes. He knew that Haruka had been lying. That he had secretly been watching him all this time. Makoto knew he was a freak and was disgusted.

Quickly unlocking the door to his apartment, Haruka collapsed as soon as he got in. His breathing was ragged. At some point his walking had turned to panicked running. His hands shook. Somewhere he remembered that he had not eaten today. But that did not matter. No amount of water or cooked mackerel could take back what had just happened.

Slowly, Haruka dragged his heavy limbs close. The most he could do was hope he could disappear. Somehow forget that he had met a wonderful person. A beautiful person. And had lost him.

Haruka knew he would never let himself look at those green eyes again.

 

* * *

 

It has been three weeks since Haruka left the flower shop.

That dreadful Friday evening, Nagisa had found him sleeping on the floor of the front entrance. Without a word, he had somehow roused Haruka enough to get him to bed. Since then, Nagisa has been careful. He invited Haruka to go swimming often, but other than that, he has left Haruka to his own space. The rowdy weekend party invites also ended. Haruka was thankful for Nagisa’s gentle treatment.

Haruka had taken things slowly, living one day at a time. Sometimes he thought he was so stupid to get so worked up over some small friendship. An idiot for being weak. Other times, he would spend nights in restless sleep. Green eyes waiting for him if he slept too deeply. He woke from those nights feeling especially hollow.

Without the flower shop, Haruka relied on the internet to give him ideas for his assignments. Apparently Kimura-sensei could tell the difference. Haruka’s grades reflected his teacher’s disapproval.

Kimura-sensei asked Haruka once after class if he would paint that “beautiful flower” again for his final. Haruka realized that his teacher mistook Haruka’s paintings of Makoto to be some sort of symbolic flower. Kimura-sensei praised Haruka for his insight and creativity, and said he would really like to see a polished work similar to it at the end the term. Haruka left his teacher without an answer.

Sitting again outside on campus, Haruka knew he should be studying for his finals. The school gave two study days before finals week. Haruka had been able to take one final early, but still had two more to take as well as his final art piece for Kimura-sensei’s class.

Haruka had been grateful for the increased workload that came with finals. With the year split into quarters, Haruka already had a good understanding of the college rush of deadlines. He had been able to just bury himself in his work. He diligently read his textbooks and took notes. He went through the entire writing process for his essays instead of his usual procrastination until the night before. He even began cleaning up after Nagisa as an excuse to keep busy.

Haruka was confident in his abilities for his last two finals. But it was the final art project that made Haruka nervous. He was supposed to illustrate his experience in the class. How had what he learned changed him?

Leaning back on the same tree he had weeks before, Haruka thoughtfully looked up into its branches. Head still upturned, he let himself close his eyes and just be in the moment. To be here in the shade of this tree

Kimura-sensei was wrong. Makoto was not a flower. He wasn’t a cactus either.

Makoto was a tree.                                                                                                                                      

It was not just because Makoto was tall or well-built, though those aspects did contribute. But as Haruka sat in the cool shadows, he heard the leaves of the tree sigh in the breeze. No doubt thousands of them were dancing on their branches, just so happy to be. Behind him, the bark of the tree was smooth but still firmly supported him. Makoto was strong like a tree. Able to weather whatever blew his way. He was unmovable and yet unassuming. Content to exist and keep growing...

Maybe Haruka’s tree analogy wasn’t supposed to stretch this far.

Haruka took a deep breath, the air sharp and fresh. Exhaling, he sat up from the tree. He let his eyes open again, head still tilted upward towards the sky. The sun broke through the canopy of leaves like bright stars in the night sky. Or dancing reflections on ocean waves. Though really, the green sparkle reminded him of Makoto’s eyes.

Maybe this is what Makoto meant about his aunt’s saying. To let your heart be open to the plants. Somehow, sitting under this tree where he had sat before who knows how many times, the tree had finally spoken to him. Haruka knew what his final art project would be.

 

* * *

 

Three days later, Haruka stepped back one last time to review his work. He had chosen acrylic on canvas, needing the strength of those colors for what he had in mind.

Before him was the flower shop, quiet and humble in the closing market. Haruka had chosen sunset as his lighting, the south west facing store reflecting brilliant oranges and reds with warm purple shadows. The buildings had been difficult for Haruka to get right, architecture having little to do with his normal forte.

Standing in front of the store, visor off and face visible, was Makoto. Surrounded by sun-dyed plant life, he stood tall. Probably having just finished sweeping the storefront, he was turning with an extended hand towards the viewer, almost beckoning for them to come in.

Haruka grimaced as he recognized the waiting expression on Makoto’s face. Eyes shining with upturned eyebrows. Mouth stretching for another unbelievable smile.

Though Makoto was the focal point, he was incomplete without the rest of the picture. Makoto was more than just a smile or glowing eyes. He was more than kind words and little quirks. He was human. He belonged somewhere. He had thoughts and wishes. He had things he loved and things he disliked. He had people that cared for him and responsibilities he accepted. He sacrificed and worked. He had secrets and desires. He was so much more than a color for Haruka to capture. More than a thing Haruka could selfishly keep.

As Haruka spent hours painting this Makoto, a living Makoto instead of one the Haruka fanaticized, he realized how much he wanted to know him. How much he wanted to understand this Makoto’s world.

And how so desperately Haruka wanted to be a part of it.

A tear fell and was quickly followed by another. Haruka turned away, not quite ready for even this painted Makoto to see him this open. His heart felt so full. Unlike so many times in his life, where demands left him feeling used and dying. Right now he felt alive, he felt right. He felt energized and capable. He knew Makoto was waiting for him. And now, he knew he would finally be able to meet him.

He needed to see Makoto. Let him know that he finally understood what Makoto was trying to say.

A quick shower and change of clothes only encouraged Haruka more. He was going to do this. He felt almost giddy.

He heard the door open and close, Nagisa finally coming home from his psychology test. Running a hand through his wet bangs to hopefully get them to lay straight, Haruka bounded out of his room to head to the door.

“Ah, Haru-chan?”

“Haru.”

Haruka froze, hand almost on the doorknob. Slowly, he turned to look behind.

First he saw that Nagisa was standing in the kitchen, a glass of water in each hand. In the living room, Makoto stood, his green eyes impossibly wide.

“You're home!” Nagisa announced needlessly, setting the glasses down on the coffee table. He walked over to Haruka, placing a firm hand on his lower back.

“While I was on campus for my test, I bumped into Mako-chan. He looked kinda like a lost puppy, walking around all confused with his pot of flowers,” Nagisa giggled to himself quietly before continuing. “Mako-chan said he was hoping to find you. So I brought him home with me. Honestly though, I thought you would be out swimming today or something.”

Haruka only half heard Nagisa explanation. His eyes had not left Makoto’s. He could not understand what message they were trying to reflect.

Nagisa gently nudged Haruka into the living room. After offering an encouraging squeeze, Nagisa excused himself into his room.

The two stood silently. Eyes still connected, messages still indistinguishable. Finally, Makoto spoke.

“Haru. I wanted to apologize about earlier. I didn’t know what those pictures meant. I didn’t understand what your feelings were. But I feel like you deserve to know mine.

“I noticed you the first time you went to that café. I saw how you seemed to like the blue hydrangeas. I liked watching you draw.

“The second time you came, I was so startled, I dropped two vases. I didn’t like how upset you looked. I hoped by placing the hydrangeas out again, I could help you. You seemed really pleased.

“After that, I desperately wanted to meet you. When I saw you sleeping the next week, I panicked. It would be creepy if I woke you up and just started talking to you. But then you did and I didn’t know what to say. But I found out you had really beautiful eyes and for some reason, I felt calm again.

“When you came by on a Sunday, I knew I had to try again. I was so happy when you let me help out. I was so happy to share a flower with you. I was so happy you let me call you by your name.

“I knew I was being over eager, but I really wanted to talk to you more. I wanted to share some of myself with you. So I invited you to the shop. And I was so happy that it seemed just as special to you as it is to me. I realized my mistake though when I shared too much with you. I overwhelmed you and was being selfish.

“But when I saw your drawings that last time... I think I understood a little more about you. That you were just as lost as I was in all this commotion. Seeing those pictures was like seeing into your heart, and I should have recognized that and stopped before I made things worse.

“I was really happy though, Haru. You made me look beautiful. You made me look so much more interesting than I actually am. More than just some clumsy new guy working at his aunt’s flower shop. I felt special.

“And not only that. When you left, you forgot a pair of gloves. I read your note and realized they were for me. They fit really well, and I haven’t dropped a plant since. You had been thinking about me and trying to help me. But I couldn’t help but wonder if I had just lost my chance. If I would never see you again.

“Every day I hoped that I wrong. Until finally this morning I realized that I didn’t want it to be the end, and that I wanted to see you. And somehow I ended up here. And I am ranting. Haru... I...”

Makoto stepped back, cheeks flushed but eyes earnest. Haruka hadn’t been able to look away as Makoto spoke. The air was still.

“I feel the same, Makoto,” Haruka had to say this, he realized. Makoto needed to know. He had extended himself, now Haruka needed to meet him. “I don’t know what has been happening. But I want to figure it out with you. I want… I want to be with you.”

“L-Like date?!” Makoto stuttered immediately, face burning again.

“Yeah… After finals are done, lets go on a date. And then on another. And another. And then maybe by then we will understand what all this is.”

The smile Makoto gave Haruka then almost made him cry. He had been able to meet Makoto’s feelings with his own. They had connected. They were in this together.

Realizing the time, Haruka remembered he only had an hour or so left to turn in his art final. Excusing himself, he wrapped up the canvas in his room. Someday, he would show Makoto this. For now, he was happy that the real living Makoto was with him.

Securing the canvas under his arm, Haruka called to Makoto asking if he would walk with him to campus. Makoto eagerly agreed. Before heading out the door, Makoto stopped him. Bending down, he picked up a potted plant, large bulbous clusters of flowers swaying heavily with the movement. This time they were purple, and Haruka didn’t miss the perfectly tied bow at their base.

“I thought I would give you a hydrangea. No matter how today went, I wanted to give it to you as a thank you for the gloves. They look a little ragged now though…”

“Makoto, they’re perfect," Haruka said before quickly leaning up to press a kiss to Makoto's cheek. The giggle Makoto let out tempted Haruka to kiss him again.

But there were assignments to turn in and things to talk about. Flowers to discover and memories to make.

Feet flat on the ground again, Haruka took Makoto’s hand in his. The two left the apartment smiling.

 

* * *

 

_“I recognize this flower shop! This piece shows your incredible improvement. Nanase-san, you have developed an incredible skill with flowers. I hope you allow yourself to continue to pursue it.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Flower Meanings:  
> Hydrangea: Heartfelt, Gratitude, An Apology  
> Blue Hydrangea: Frigidity, Regret  
> Purple Hydrangea: Desire for a deep understanding of someone  
> Daisy- Faithful, Pure  
> Chrysanthemum: Lasting Friendship, Support  
> Peony- Honor, Respect, sometimes Love Between Strangers  
> Lily of the Valley- Promise of Happiness, Purity of Heart, Sweetness  
> Anemone- To Ward Off Bad Fortune, Good Luck for New Beginnings  
> Forget-me-not- Undying Love, A Connection that Lasts through Time  
> Cactus flower- Lust  
> Magnolia Tree- Endurance, Magnificence, Joy (This is the tree Haruka imagines Makoto would be)
> 
> Thank you for reading my fic! This is my first time doing an alternate universe like this. I have never written anything quite this long either. I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know your thoughts :D
> 
> Also, feel free to check out my blog on tumblr! I am exquisitewallflower.tumblr.com


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